Stephen's Boy
by Anidori-Kiladra
Summary: He remembered what the Inquisitor had said when she was leading him to his cage of light. “You could be my son.” He could just as easily be her grandson. In which Jace thinks a lot, and then gets some answers from an unlikely source.


Stephen's Boy

After the battle on Valentine's boat, after they had all recovered (more or less), and had gone back to their respective homes, Jace finally had time to sit in his room and stare at his blank walls and think.

Mostly what he wanted to think about was the Inquisitor. Well, not so much the Inquisitor herself as the three words she had whispered in his ear, quick as a flash, that he couldn't be sure he had heard correctly amidst all of the rain and the shouting and the dying screams of demons.

"You're Stephen's boy," she'd said, and Jace half didn't even want to consider the implications of such a statement, because it was so much easier just to stare at his walls and think of nothing, or rather, to think of the problems that his life had already provided for him, familiar problems that he'd already thought through a hundred times before.

Because Jace liked to think that he liked new things, that he wasn't scared by new ideas or things that challenged him in a way that couldn't be dealt with with a sword, but he knew it wasn't true.

And so he thought about those three words (four without the contraction), and while he was thinking, he found himself absentmindedly fingering the scar on his shoulder for what had to be the five hundredth time in two days. The Inquisitor had seemed fascinated by it, Jace thought , tapping it lightly with his fingertips, feeling the familiar silky scar skin, the slightly raised star shape.

Well, as long as he was going to do this properly, now would be the perfect time for a suddenly-remembered, past-revealing flashback, he thought, glancing hopefully up at the ceiling.

But of course there were no flashbacks, and Jace was surprised to find himself relieved, a level of relief that couldn't be explained away simply by a desire for simple, easily-fixed problems and familiar thoughts.

He couldn't be disappointed at the chance that Valentine wasn't his father, could he? If Valentine wasn't his father, it meant everything he'd ever wanted could be possible: Clary, no conflicted loyalties…Well, mostly Clary.

No possibility of a grand destiny either, though. No possibility of being the boy-the man who defied his father and saved Shadowhunters forever.

He recognized that he was being stupid, ridiculous even. He thought about what Clary would say if she were here.  
"You make your own destiny, Jace. Come on, you know that. Don't make me quote clichés at you."

Or maybe that's just what he'd say to himself. It was hard to tell sometimes.

So, if he did consider, if he pretended that it could be true. He could imagine that Valentine wasn't his father. He'd imagined it plenty of times before. To imagine that this Stephen was his father though, that was harder.

He remembered what the Inquisitor had said when she was leading him to the room where she built his cage of light. "You could be my son." He could just as easily be her grandson. _Stephen's boy._

But it still didn't make sense. Not really. There were way too many holes in the story.

* * *

He went to Luke's.

"Come in," Luke yelled when he banged on the door and announced who it was. He found Luke sitting at the kitchen table, eating a bowl of what appeared to be very soggy Cheerios.

"Hi Jace," Luke said. "Clary's back there." Luke jerked his head in the direction of the back room. "Sorting through some books for me. Lord knows I've gotten pretty backed up the last couple of weeks."

"That's okay," Jace said. "I came to talk to you."

He paused, suddenly slightly nervous, not sure, now that he was here, how to begin.

Luke nodded around a slight frown and a spoonful of cereal, then swallowed and said, "Sure. Sit down." He nudged the chair opposite him out from under the table with his foot. "What can I do for you, Jace?"

Jace took a breath. "Tell me about Stephen," he said.

Luke looked confused for a moment, then his face cleared somewhat, although the lines around his mouth stayed etched around a slight frown. He rubbed the stubble on his chin. "About Stephen and Amatis, you mean?" he said. "You're smart kids. I was wondering when you would figure that one out."

Jace opened his mouth, then closed it, looked at Luke. "What?"

Luke looked back at him, then away, toward the refrigerator. "Oh. Nothing," Luke said. Jace frowned. "Nothing," Luke said again. "What were you going to ask?"

"I already asked," he said, confused. "What do you know about Stephen?"

Luke looked slightly surprised, raising his eyebrows beneath his shaggy hair. He pushed his glasses up on his forehead.

"You've already heard all I know, Jace," he said. "He was Valentine's second in command, before he was killed during a raid on a vampire nest. Amatis was his first wife, and Celine was his second wife, the one who killed herself."

"And she was pregnant?" Jace asked, his breath suddenly too thin and not quite enough to fill his chest.

"Eight months," said Luke.

"And the baby…died too?" Jace cringed.

Luke looked taken-aback now, and a little worried. "I don't see how it wouldn't have. Now why are you asking this, Jace? You're not one for idle curiosity."

Jace leaned back in his seat, slumping down so that his feet stretched out all the way under the table and bumped against one of the legs. He should tell Luke. Luke would help him. It would certainly be easier to tell Luke than it would be to tell Robert of Maryse or any other adult in his life.

But now, even after only a few days, Jace felt like this was his knowledge, his secret, and he couldn't just give something that was _his_ away so easily.

"Never mind," he said.

Luke's frown lines deepened even further. "You know you can talk to me about anything, Jace," he said.

"Yeah, I just—it was stupid. Never mind."

Luke still looked concerned, but he got up from the table, carrying his still half-full bowl to the sink and setting it down inside. The spoon clinked and Jace let his head fall into his hands.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I—" But then Jace stopped, because the tiny whispering flame of indecision just below his Adam's apple seemed to flare up, and suddenly the words were tumbling out of his mouth.

Luke stood with his back against the sink, the water still running over his by now thoroughly rinsed bowl and spoon, as Jace told him what the Inquisitor had said, and all his thoughts about what it could mean.

"And then I thought, what if Celine _did_ have her baby, but then she and Stephen were dead, and Valentine took the baby and it was me," he finished, sure that, by this point, he wasn't making any sense at all.

Luke took a deep breath and then let it out slowly. Just as slowly, he turned around and flipped the faucet down. The kitchen suddenly seemed much too quiet, without the gentle rush of water.

Luke could look pretty gentle, but when he turned to face him again, it was the gentlest Jace had ever seen it.

"I understand why you might think that, Jace," he said. "given what the Inquisitor said. But you've got to remember that the Inquisitor was never really rational where Stephen was concerned." And Jace felt the tiny, flickering flame shudder and go out. "I'm sorry, Jace, but I just don't see how it's possible."

Jace nodded mutely.

"I'll go see if Clary's finished yet," Luke said, his voice soft. "She'll want to see you, since you're here."

Jace felt the light touch of Luke's hand on his head, then it was gone and he was alone.

But not for long though. After a few seconds, Jace heard the padding of someone socked feet on the floor. He lifted his head to glare at Simon. Luke hadn't mentioned that _he_ was here.

"I couldn't help overhearing…" Simon began.

"With your super-human hearing of the damned, you mean?" Jace interjected.

"Yes, that," Simon said mildly, waving his hand as if to say that he was _so_ over the vampire jokes already. "And I think I have a solution to your problem."

* * *

"Wait, explain it to me again," Jace said.

Simon sighed, sounding a bit more long-suffering than the moment warranted, in Jace's opinion. "You can fake a pregnancy on a dead woman," he said, as if this was the most obvious thing in the world.

Jace stared at him, just as he had the first time Simon had said it, wondering if he'd finally cracked.

"What?" Simon asked, noticing the stare. "They did it in _Revenge of the Sith_."

Yes, it must be true, Jace thought, this whole half-vampire business, not to mention his angst over Clary, and now that whole thing with Maia that Jace still didn't really understand, must have driven Simon off the deep end at last.

Simon sighed again, even more long-suffering this time. "You've never seen _Star Wars_, have you?" he asked. Another sigh. "I suppose I'd better explain."

When Simon had finished, Jace stood and turned away, shaking his head. Who would have thought that one of Simon's random nerdy facts would actually be useful in the real world?

Jace quickened his step as he left the kitchen and turned down the hallway leading to the back room of the bookstore. He and Clary had some things to discuss.

xXx

A/N: Finally, at long last, the fic about my long-held theory of Jace's parentage is finished! I think at times it's kind of vague and disjointed, but at the moment, I don't care anymore! For the most part I like it though, and I would love to know what you think. Standard disclaimer applies.

Oh, and the part about Amatis I stuck in there because she's totally Luke's sister. Y'all know it's true.

Oh, also, does anyone know if there's a way to delete C2s? Because there's really no need for mine now that there's a proper Mortal Instruments section. I looked around and didn't see any way to delete it, but maybe I'm just oblivious. Any help in this arena would be most appreciated.


End file.
